a study in the exploited
by eylandria13
Summary: sherlock holmes subject to fanfiction is furious to say the least
1. Chapter 1

Sherlock Holmes glared at me.

"What!?" I protested.

He cast me a look that expressed his frustration and anger, before hiding his face behind a newspaper.

"Doyle was better" he muttered.

"I know that" I said exasperatedly.

He threw down his paper furiously, and yelled "this is a severe violation of my copyright laws!"

"I'm only fourteen! And your story is over a hundred year's old copyright expired 80 years ago!"

"But I'm still technically owner, and I forbid it" he pointed out.

"But you're not real" she objected.

"Should that stop me?" he demanded.

"Well… yeah" I said frankly.

He tried to get up from his chair to storm off, he growled in frustration for he couldn't get up "quick" he said pointing to the laptop I held "write that I go storming off."

"And what if I don't?"

He sighed in defeat and slouched in his chair.

"I shouldn't be subjected to the hopeless attempts of poor authors trying to improve their writing" he said softly.

"You're probably right" I admitted "but hey" I said with a grin, "I'm one of those hopeless writers so I am on their side."

"I can feel them watching me" he muttered.

"Of course" I said soothingly "this is a fan-fiction remember?"

He frowned "don't remind me."

He stared at me as I tilted my head, as if deciding something.

"You lack the grammatical perfection that Doyle had and his brilliance for mystery such as the speckled band" he remarked.

"That's perfectly clear" I said a touch of sorrow in my voice "I wish I did."

"Don't they all?" Sherlock said dryly.

I paused to start typing, on the computer.

"Oh lord in heaven have mercy on this fictional soul" he said fearfully staring at the laptop, as if it was a snake.

"What?" I asked.

"You're writing" he said in a subdued voice.

"So?" I asked.

He cast me a glance "you would be surprised what I have to go through, imagine getting the simplest cases written like they were brilliant, and imagine waking up and going to get coffee and finding Watson is a woman, imagine you're all of a sudden a child again, imagine being kidnapped and getting hyperthermia."

"Oh?" I commented.

He laughed blandly "that's not the half of it but you're a bit young for the rest."

"Don't worry there is nothing like this in here" I said typing rapidly.

"Gosh I'm hungry" he said in a slightly surprised voice.

"I know" I said still typing rapidly.

He groaned "this isn't going to end well."

"You better believe it buddy" I said absently.

"Please" he pleaded, unsuccessfully trying to stand "don't do this; this should be left to the original author!"

I sense the desperation rising in his voice "if you think could do better, try" I challenged.

"But I'm not the original author" he objected.

"So? By definition you _are_ sir arther Conan Doyle"

"Very true" he said with a proud voice "very well I will" he declared

"Good for you!" I cheered "but first…."

By command from my typing He stood, he grabbed the back of the chair he was sitting in "oh no" he pleaded "please no, I don't want to be in another one!"

"Too bad" I said watching him as he clung to the chair, for dear dignity.

I pressed the F5 key and the chair disappeared, and he was groping at nothing.

"That was a dirty trick" he snarled as on command, he walked toward the door.

"Enjoy your adventure!" I said sweetly.

_A few tortuous stories later..._

Sherlock picked up the laptop and held it upside down "how do you work this thing?"

I snatched from his grasp "that's a generation four you don't do that to a generation four."

"Ok, ok just give it to me" I set it down on the desk in front of him and opened Microsoft word and showed him how to type.

He waved me away "I got it don't worry."

_One week later _

I watched as Sherlock relaxed in his wingback chair puffing his pipe "it been a week" I commented

"Yes….oh!" He jumped up and snatched my laptop up "let's see if I got any reviews" he gave and I opened fanfiction "you got reviews!"

I said excitedly, I stopped and read carefully then looked up at him, he looked eager "well?" He asked impatiently.

I burst out laughing and handed him the laptop "read" I choked, trying to stop laughing as I fell out of the chair banging the ground with my fist.

Finally I managed to stop laughing and gasping for breath, I looked at him, his pipe drooped "I don't understand" he said in a confused voice.

I burst out laughing again "nobody thinks Sherlock Holmes would act like that!" I howled cracking up and rolling around on the floor.

Sherlock threw his hat across the room, followed closely by his pipe.

**Ok I corrected some of the mistakes apparently I forgot to punctuate the last few paragraphs. **

**This takes place in a reality called the Neutral Zone, all the characters live in one reality 9call it what you will) we live in another, neither of us can exist in the other's reality, so there is a dimension we can both go to for communication purposes. Though in that dimension we have the upper hand, all characters have to go there to get a new story or drawing or movie or TV show or whatever. Even things that will never make it to paper (failed ideas or failure due to procrastination on the creator's part) they have to go through any stories you dream up and think about, they're dragged to the neutral zone to act it out or to talk to the creator. in a simpler form: think of a movie studio, the directors and the actors don't live there, but they go there to act and observe, sometimes also to brainstorm, there you have it, if you have any questions about the neutral zone or wish to use it for your own story please PM me, and if you have any ideas for me I would love to hear them. **


	2. Chapter 2- plotbunny

I ran down the crowded London Street, my backpack bouncing on my back, I glanced up at the sky, I was late no doubt but as to how late I had no idea. I tapped the shoulder of the man in front of me, he was wearing a black trench coat "excuse me sir can you tell me what time it is?" I inquired he stopped but did not turn. a man a few feet in front of the first in a brown trench coat stopped and turned, he had a half worried half impatient expression. the first looked down at me over his shoulder and stared, a slow smirk spread across his lips, I shrank down "Holmes" the man in the brown trench coat called softly, 'Holmes' shot him an irritated glance and looked down at me again. he wasn't smiling anymore, but his eyes sparkled, he winked turned away and started walking again, the man in the brown coat started walking again too "sir-?" I said confusedly taking a few steps after him, a sudden flood of people from the street knocked me off balance and I lost sight of them, completely disoriented it took me a minute to regain sense of direction and I stared down the street, where they had walked, they were nowhere to be seen….

And that is why I believe in **sherlock holmes **

**I am sooo sorry for this monstrosity, it was replaying in my head over and over and I had to put it down on paper, then I was seized with the sudden desire to share it with the world. **

**keep in mind I'm twelve in this.**

**picture BBC sherlock holmes and watson **


End file.
